


Trinket

by frozenpapers



Category: Frozen (2013), Hans x Elsa, Hansla - Fandom, Helsa - Fandom, Iceburns - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:10:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1984182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenpapers/pseuds/frozenpapers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Hans x Elsa; Alternate frozen]<br/>The queen of the Southern Isles was without doubt the wisest and the most beautiful above all. She had the pristine beauty, the sharp mind, and all the love she could garner. But every night, it seemed like it wasn't enough for a thought had never left her mind. And even if he tried to tell her that she wasn't anything next to an old useless trinket, she still thought otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trinket

She sighed as she stared back at herself in the mirror, her vague blue eyes wide, her face hollow and pale, and her lips tight and sealed like a letter. Her hand clutched on the pair of white gloves her handmaiden had  _ruefully_  handed to her. She refused to let a tear fall from her cheek as she heard her parents speak about what was to be her fate.

“I just hope they don’t see her as you know  _what._ ” She heard the distress in her mother’s voice as she tried her best not to stare back at the door and glower at it until it would melt. She pressed her eyes closed and bit her quivering lip – a nervous habit – as she fidgeted with the ends of the gloves and wrung it like a dishcloth.

Her father’s – the  _greatest_  and  _kindest_  Majesty’s – voice then followed like a snake on a pit filled with prey. “I don’t know what I’d do with her if they  _reject_  her. We – I  _can’t_  do this anymore. Anna  _cannot_  find out.”  The vile in his words was perspicuous she could almost see him bite his cheek and run his hands through his hair in frustration. She sighed as she looked at her own hands, her tears concealed, just like her emotions were bottled up.

“But don’t you think we  _should_  give her another chance?” Her mother’s voice was almost pleading, just like it always was when it came to situations like this. But, she refused to look at herself now as she brought her gaze to the open window.

_What was it like to be outside?_

“That’s enough. We’ve given her  **enough**!” But she knew she hadn’t received that  _enough_  as she clenched her own teeth in anger. It had  _almost_  made her happy that she was going to be given away.

The stomp of her mother’s foot echoed. “I haven’t seen that  **enough**  you are talking about.” Her mother mumbled. “I just  _hope_  you know what you’re doing.” And with that, her mother’s footsteps resonated as she pictured the  _dear_  queen walking away from the  _almighty_  king once again.

She folded her arms against her chest as she fixed her gaze back at her own reflection, her eyes now steely, a darker and  _more dangerous_  shade of blue. The snowflakes that fell now hung, frozen in the endless seems of time as she situated herself on her cold bed, the sigh of pure livid filling the silence that stood in between the four walls. She tossed the  _just in case_  gloves away, tapping – or rather rapping her foot on the frozen floor as she watched the grandfather clock go  _tick tock tick tock_. The boredom easily enveloped her, the silence becoming unbearable as the ringing in her ears muffled her mutterings and the noise her foot was making. She started to fidget as she let herself fall back on the piles of snow, her eyes directed on the frozen door as if waiting for someone to start the only piece of  _entertainment_  she had for ten years. She bit her lip, released it, and rested her hands on her stomach, her mind becoming restless, and her body wanting to do something other than lie down. The sound of feet on carpet sounded, the pattern taking her aback as she hadn’t heard that  _certain_  footstep in a while. A frown made its way through her face, an all too well frown as she prepared herself from the sadness that swirled in the pit of her stomach.

“Gerda,” her sister’s effervescent tone made her flinch as she closed her eyes, the pain throbbing like needles. “Why is it awfully cold in here?” Her frown deepened as she imagined her sister rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm herself.

She heard her handmaiden’s footsteps and could almost see the smile she had often carried with her. “It’s just the wind, love.  _You know you shouldn’t be here_.” Her throat went dry as she swallowed the urge to shed the tears she had been trying to hold back for years. The sight of Gerda hauling her sister back to the throne room made her cringe.

“I just want to see what’s in there. I want to know what my sister was like before she…” Anna’s voice grew quiet as Elsa imagined how her sister would look away with tears in her eyes. She placed her hand on her chest as she sighed again – the only thing she could ever do.

The sympathy in the quiet was unmistakable as she shifted to face the other end of the room, her back to the door, her arms wrapped around her body for comfort. “I know, child.” Gerda mumbled. With that, she refused to listen to any of the  _bunkum_.

“I just don’t understand what’s in there that I shouldn’t see. It’s almost as if you’re  _hiding_  something from me.”  _Someone_ , she corrected, closing her eyes, waiting for them to just go.

When the footsteps became distant, she sat herself up and resumed staring back at her reflection. The sun was beginning to fade when she heard her father’s footsteps and two others’. She quickly tore her gaze from the slumbering sun and stared back at the same door.  _Maybe it was time_.

“It’s cold in here.” Someone, she didn’t know who, said with wonder. She tucked a hair out of place behind her ear as she waited for her father to respond.

“You should get used to it.” She could see her father shrug as he too hugged himself for warmth. She only rolled her eyes.

“Did you?” The stranger questioned, the audacity almost bringing a smile to her face.

And albeit she knew the answer, she still forced herself to listen. “No, I didn’t.”  _I guess you won’t too_ , the sentence wasn’t said, but she could  _hear_  it from his mouth. She grimaced as she glared at the door, wishing for it to collapse like dust.

“I will. I’m determined to.” The stranger never failed to amuse her as a smirk played across her red lips, her eyes twinkling with victory.

“But would  _he_?” Her smirk faded as she raised a brow at her father’s question, her teeth finding their way back on her lower lip, a flash of disappointment in her eyes.

“What do you say?” Agitation grew in the pit of her stomach as she started to fidget  _again_.

“I will get used to it. I can try.” A voice that belonged to a young man at around her age – she estimated – answered with confidence. She smiled, but her fingers were still pulling at the sides of her mattress, the perturbation still sitting low in her stomach, gnawing at her like rats.

“We shall see.” The smirk on her father’s face made her mutter a curse as she felt the knob click. “Elsa, open the door, please.”

She sighed as she flicked her wrist, the ice on the door thawing immediately. “It’s unlocked.”  She answered as she straightened her back, keeping her face as placid as possible, her eyes directed on the mirror.

She didn’t even look when her father stepped in with a young man. She kept her eyes on hers only as she waited for her father to leave the room.

“Hi,” the first one to speak was the young lad, breaking the ice – metaphorically speaking – that was situated between them.

Elsa looked away from the mirror and regarded him with a look. She smiled at him genuinely, the first she had ever done in years. “Hello.” She shrugged. “You probably see me as a monster by now.” She looked at the walls around them. “I’m Elsa.” But her smile never faded.

 

He walked towards her and sat on the cold bed, his eyes on hers. “I don’t. I’m Hans, by the way.”


End file.
